


Red on White

by misaffection



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-07
Updated: 2011-11-07
Packaged: 2017-10-25 20:02:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/274198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Baal disappears, Sam has no reason to suspect anything but his usual tricks. But then Malcolm Barrett arrives with details on a cult and SG-1 must race against time in order to get to Baal before it's too late...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Red on White

When Baal fails to show at the SGC, Sam isn't concerned. Annoyed, yes, but not concerned. After all, it's not the first time he's flouted the rules and she refuses to let it aggravate her.

However when his absence drags into two, then three days, she begins to get a little worried, mostly for the safety of the planet. She thinks that she should possibly trust him more – he _is_ a member of her team, after all – but he's still Baal, and trouble tends to follow in his footsteps.

On the fourth day, everything changes.

Malcolm Barrett arrives, looking especially hassled, and SG-1 are called into a meeting along with Doctor Lam. Files are passed around and Sam opens hers, then gasps at the garish photograph that captures every nuance of a bloodied, tortured body that is just about recognisable as female.

She looks up and stares at Malcolm. “Who's this?”

“So far we've not been able to identity the body,” he says, rubbing his forehead. “All we know is that she carried a Goa'uld. It's... we've been following a cult that sprung up about seven months ago. From the information we've gathered so far, all the members are terminally ill.”

“We've... had this before,” Daniel says and puts a hand over hers. Sam smiles at him wanly, trying not to remember that little incident with Adrian Conrad. He adds, “What do they want with the Goa'uld?”

“Life.” Malcolm shrugs. “Or to be exact, immortality.”

“The Goa'uld aren't immortal.”

“No, Doctor Jackson, but these people believe otherwise, and they are prepared to go to extreme lengths to get a symbiote.”

“Most of the cuts here are not necessary to extract a symbiote,” Carolyn says. Sam is aware of Daniel nodding.

“Looks more like a ritual,” he says.

“That's because it is,” Malcolm sighs. “We've discovered another two bodies, each cut up the same way and-”

“Oh God.” Sam stares at the photograph, a growing sense of horror spreading through her on a numb wave. She looks at Daniel. “Baal.”

Daniel's eyes widen and she _knows_. She just knows. Bile rushes into her mouth and she swallows hard, trying not to gag. Someone passes her a cup of water and the file in front of her is closed, pulled away so she can’t see. The room spins, darkness closing around her and she can't breathe, can't think. The image is burned onto her retina and all she sees is blood everywhere and _oh God_.

“Daniel,” she moans.

“Sir.” Cameron's voice is respectful but firm. “We have to do something.”

“Colonel, I don't think-”

Landry doesn't get to finish. “Sir, with all due respect and as much as he is a pain in the ass, Baal is a member of my team. I don't leave my people behind, sir. Not even that one.”

Sam wipes her eyes and smiles at Cam. “Thanks.”

“He saved Jackson's life, not to mention the whole Ori thing. I guess we owe him.”

She reads between the lines and smiles a little more. She looks around. Daniel is holding her hand and she doesn't even need to ask: she can see the answer in his eyes. Vala is pale and has her lips pressed tightly together, but she nods and her expression hardens.

“I owe him as well,” she says, not elaborating even though Cam and Daniel stare at her. Sam just nods, keeping _that_ between the three of them.

Her eyes shift to Teal'c. The Jaffa regards her for a long moment, then bows his head. Relief washes something of the horror away: her team have her back. Taking a deep breath in, she faces Landry. “Sir?” she asks. Her voice breaks and she digs her nails into her palm. She will not lose it now. Too much relies on her staying together. He relies on her, and she will not let him down.

Landry hesitates, then considers the others. He sighs and waves a hand. “Be careful. These people are lunatics.”

Sam gets the urge to hug him, but stays in her seat. Mostly because she doesn't trust her legs. She reaches for the file, but Cameron snatches it off the table.

“Stop it. We're gonna get him back.” A pained expression crosses his face. “And I cannot believe I just said that.”

“Oh, come off it,” Daniel snorts. “Who else are you going to muffin torture if not him?”

“Man has a point. What d'you reckon Teal'c?”

“Indeed.”

She manages to laugh, both cheered and humbled by their easy banter. Looking around, she smiles and says, “Thanks guys. I mean that.”

“Hey, anything for you.” Cam grins at her and then nods. “He's a pain in the ass, but he's our pain in the ass. But boy is he going to own me.”

“We've pinpointed several locations used by the cult,” Malcolm says and shuffles through a file. Sam notices he is careful not to let any of the photographs slide out and silently forgives him for being an ass when Baal first joined them. “But the two we've been focusing on are these two, both disused warehouses.”

He puts down several external shots of the buildings. There's nothing to suggest that either is a Goa'uld torture house: they are bland constructs with bars on the windows and razor wire around the edges of the flat roofs.

“We can't do both,” Cam says. “We're going to need more Intel and I'm not sure we have the time.”

Sam stares at the buildings, wondering how to decide and then blinks. “Oh! No, we don't need anything, because Baal still has a locator chip.”

Cam grins. “Keeping tabs?”

She gazes at him. “Not well enough, apparently.”

“Hey, you stop that. You can't have seen this coming.” He taps on the table. “Okay, so here's the plan. Sam, fire up the scanner and track Lover Boy down. Malcolm, do you have addresses on these? I want to get a good look at the surrounding area.”

“Yeah, just a moment.”

As he routes through the file, Cam continues, “Whichever it is, plan of attack is gonna be the same – hit 'em hard and hit 'em fast. Zats at first, but if they're armed I'm gonna say return fire.”

“What about the Daedalus?” Daniel says then. “It's in orbit right now and since Baal's got a chip, we could just use that and beam him out.”

“No.” Carolyn's voice is firm, but then she hesitates and looks at Sam. She nods in encouragement. The doctor sighs. “If they've... started, then transporting him could result in severe shock. To that end, I'm going with you Colonel Mitchell.”

“Yeah, well you can keep out of the line of fire until the place is secured.”

“Of course.”

“Right.” Cam stands up, face determined. “Let's get on with this, then. If nothing else, I need to make a list.”

Sam wonders what list he's talking about, but all is made clear as he walks out with Teal'c at his side, reciting repairs and demeaning chores that he plans on making Baal do. This makes her smile, and the immediate horror slides away to let her focus again.

“Come on,” she says to Daniel and Vala. “Let's see if we can find him.”

“Hey, you never know – he might not even be... I mean, this still could just be him playing up.”

She wishes that was true. “I don't think so, Daniel. He's never gone this long without contacting me.” Smiling wryly, she adds, “He likes to know how annoyed he's making me.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “It's quite a thing you two have going on.”

She grins. “Oh, I know. It works, though.”

“I'd noticed. As weird as it is for me to say this, but he's good for you. And he's changed a fair bit. Half the time I forget...”

He tails off and she swallows. A shiver wracks her, but she refuses to give into her fears and pushes her emotions aside. “Come on,” she says again, and heads for her lab.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Recalibrating the satellite system to pick up the locator chip takes Sam longer than it would usually. She's rushing, her fingers tripping over each other in her desperate need to find him. Eventually it's done and she sets the scan, watching with mounting tension that cramps her back as the first scans proves inconclusive. She increases the signal and tries again.

A dot appears on the map.

Her breath rushes out on a gasp of relief, then she zooms in to see where he is. Disbelief jars as the location comes up as the building in Colorado, not even five kilometres away. They hold him so close and yet so far.

“I'll tell Cameron,” Vala says and slips off.

Sam looks at Daniel. “At least he's within easy reach?”

“It's going to be much easier to mobilise a rescue. But that's probably how they got him.” He pulls a face. “You realise they'll have been watching?”

Her stomach roils. “Yeah. I don't...” She rubs a hand over her face and Daniel grips her shoulder. “I've not seen anything out of the ordinary. Nothing to suggest this.”

“You've relaxed since the IOA stopped tracking his every move, it's only natural to imagine the danger over.”

“I can't believe they didn't raise this earlier.” She is unaccountably angry with Malcolm, despite his help. The IOA had _known_ there was a risk and hadn't informed her or the SGC. “If we'd known this group was out there...”

“Maybe Malcolm didn't see the point. Warning Baal about anything does tend to have the sure-fire result in him doing exactly what you tell him not to.”

Sam huffs a laugh: he has a point there. She stares at the dot on screen and then touches it, trying to reach out to him. “I can't believe I let them just waltz in and take him. Or that no one reported it.”

“I wouldn't have thought that they were seen – the reports make a mention of how no one saw anything in the other cases. They targeted ones that wouldn't be missed as well.”

“Except Baal would be.”

“Yes, and that goes in his favour.” Daniel squeezes her hand. “He's lucky to have you.”

She shakes her head. “I should have known there was something wrong sooner.”

“Oh, because he's never not shown up before,” he says dismissively. “It’s a classic case of crying wolf and it is _not_ your fault. You couldn't have known.”

Sam isn't so sure.

“Not even when he didn't get in touch?” she asks, tone bitter and guilt surges. “I've not even bothered trying to contact him. I just thought that he was messing with my head.”

Daniel grabs the other chair and swings it round, then sits down and takes her hands. “Yeah, we all did and whose fault is that? I'm not saying he deserves this, but I don't think you should be wrapped up in guilt over it either.”

But she can't help the 'what ifs', can't stop wondering if she'd missed something. “I should have-”

“Sam, hindsight is twenty-twenty. And no amount of trying to second guess your every movement is not going to help him right now. Let's worry about getting him back, yeah?”

It is a much-needed slice of common sense. She nods and accepts that she can't change what's happened. But she damn well can change the end outcome: he is _not_ going to die.

Footstep sound in the corridor, and she glances round in time to see Cam enter, Vala at his heels. Her friend is still pale and Daniel sees it too. “You okay?” he asks her.

“Not really. Extraction-” She catches herself and flashes Sam an apologetic look. “It's one thing. But...”

She trails off, twisting a lock of dark hair around one finger and worrying at it with her teeth. Sam nods.

“It's okay, Vala. I understand.”

“You could stay here,” Daniel says, then glances at Sam. “You, too.”

“Absolutely not.” She is not staying behind. “I have to find him, Daniel.”

He doesn't look surprised. “Yeah, well I can understand that.”

She knows he does. He's been in this position, though that's where the similarities end considering Sha're was taken by the Goa'uld and she... She likes hers just as he is, thank you very much. He's arrogant, contrary and forever winding her up, but she loves him in spite of and because of those things.

The sickening recall of the blood-stained photographs rises in her mind. She sees it every time that she closes her eyes, as if they are burned onto her retina.

 _Baal. Oh Baal_. She knows he can be stubborn. She hopes to hell now is one of those times.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

It takes a little over half an hour to mobilise three SG units and a medical team. Sam stands at the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain and stares at the SUVs, stunned that so much is being done. She looks at Cam and he points at her.

“You breathe one word and I'll shoot you. That man is insufferable enough without finding out we mobilised a small army to rescue him.”

“My lips are sealed,” she replies with a smile. It feels good to be doing something, rather than sitting around. She itches to be off, though. “Are we ready?”

“Just about, yeah.” He gazes at her, concern etched on his face. “Look, Sam, are you sure about this? If you wanna sit this one out...”

“I can't, Cam. I just... I need to be there.” She takes a deep breath and pushes the choking fear down. “And you might need me.”

Cam's not stupid and he nods, knowing what she really means. “Okay, but I'm in charge, d'you hear? Do as I say, cos God knows you're not gonna be thinking straight.”

She accepts that with a nod: she knows damn well that she isn't and maybe it she ought to stay behind, but that doesn’t sit well. Not one bit.

Zipping up her leather jacket against the chill breeze, Sam watches Cam go over the plan with the leaders of the other SG teams. Teal'c and Daniel are already in the lead SUV, but she can't sit right now and tries to pace away the nervous tension that ripples through her.

It doesn't really work.

She wants a do over, to reverse time. And this time, she'd ring him and find out where the hell he was, tell him to get his ass where it was safe. Or she'd stop the bastards from getting their hands on him. She'd take back the argument that had resulted in throwing him out and leaving him to his own devices; whatever it would take to prevent this agony of waiting, of not knowing if he’s dead or alive.

A lump rises in her throat and she blinks back a hot prickle. He _isn't_ going to die. He _can't_. Her life just wouldn't be the same without his casual infiltration of her lab, rooting through things she constantly has to take off him; without the sarcastic barbs, the offhand comments he makes during briefings that are outrageous or downright ridiculous but still make her laugh; without his warm presence in her bed, and the things he does to her.

Sam shudders and pulls herself to the present. But the lump in her throat transmutes into a throbbing ache and she cannons into motion, counting her steps so she's not thinking about cuts or pools of blood or a gravestone with his name on.

“Sam, we're set.”

Her heart pounds double time at Cam’s announcement and she jogs to the SUV, clambering in next to Daniel. He takes her hand and squeezes. “It's gonna be okay,” he says.

She wishes that she could believe that, but she nods and lies. “Yeah.”

The order is given and the SUV pulls off, the others assuredly in convoy. Sam breathes out and forces herself to relax, letting her spine melt against the cushioning of the seat.

Time hangs on a wire. She can hear the muttered conversation between Daniel and a SF officer but not distinguish the words, much as she sees the blur of the world as it passes by her window, the detail fading to insignificance. She is fully focused on where she needs to be.

Each kilometre brings her closer.

After an indeterminate amount of time, the SUV turns onto a wasteland of broken concrete and abandoned buildings. As the driver aims their vehicle down the main route, the others break off, going around so they can surround the building.

The building – Sam sits upright as they close in, her eyes locked on it. Somewhere behind those weathered walls and barred windows is Baal. She's no idea if the cult has started, or... finished, or if he's just locked up in a cell. She hopes it's the latter, but a sinking sensation in her gut says otherwise.

She's the first one out as the vehicle comes to a halt, skidding a little on the loose ground. An urge to charge in and pull him out overwhelms her and she had to grip her P90 tightly so stop herself.

Cam comes over, talking into his handset. “Collins, you take the back door. Evans has the side entrance. Mission is to contain and disarm. I want no shots fired unless it's absolutely necessary.” He pushes a tablet computer into her hands. “Malcolm put the blueprints in. You reckon you could use them to figure out exactly where he is?”

Sam looks at the screen, then nods and goes back to the SUV to prop the tablet on the hood. She works quickly, inputting the blueprints into the scanner. A bright blue spot lights up and she breathes out.

“That's his rough location,” she says. “Just give me a moment...” She separates the levels, scanning each one and then checking the results. Finally, she can report to Cam, “West wing, second floor. First room on the left of this corridor.”

She points at it, her finger touching the dot. Stares at it. They're so close now. _Hang on_ , she thinks and closes her eyes. _Please, please hang on_.

“Right,” Cam says. “Shall we go, then?”

 _I’m coming_.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

There is no resistance. In fact, there's hardly anyone in the building, but Sam watches with hot eyes as those arrested are taken outside. Cam must notice, because he drags her towards the stairs.

“Second floor,” he says, his tone quelling. Refocused, she nods and begins to climb.

Double doors open onto a featureless grey corridor. There are two doors on the left and three on the right, but Sam knows where he is. She can also smell his blood. Naquadah tickles her tongue: a sweet undertone to the sharp tang of copper. Knowing that he's bleeding, possibly even dying, makes her heart beat faster and her palms sweat.

Cam holds up a fist and she halts, tense and shaking. Every nerve, every cell is screaming at her to charge in and save him.

“Stay. Here,” he tells her and then nods at Teal'c.

The Jaffa opens the door with one solid kick. Then he stops and shares a long look with Cam, who visibly pales. Even Teal'c's usually stoic face is shocked. Sam's stomach turns over and she steps forward.

“No,” Cam says, hand up to stop her. He looks at Daniel. “Keep her here.”

Sam shifts her weight from one foot to the other. Impatience and the need to get to him pulls at her like gravity. Cam's voice floats back, a low curse that echoes with shock and horror. It breaks her and she sidesteps Daniel, bolts forward. She manages three, maybe four steps into the windowless room, before the shock of what she sees glues her feet to the floor.

The logical, scientific part of her mind logs the whitewashed walls and stainless steel units that give the room a cold, clinical feel. It registers that the red swirl that paints the grey floor is the symbol for infinity. She knows that it's written in blood.

Her brain disconnects as her gaze takes in the padded surgery table set in the centre of the room. The tanned form is all too familiar, though he looks... smaller, somehow. A thick strap spans his waist, pinning his naked body down, while cuffs fasten his wrists to the table legs. His skin is raw from struggling to get free, while a gag has kept the cult from being bothered by his screams.

 _Sam_ screams. The echo of it comes back, distant as the room spins around her, darkening.

“Dammit, Jackson, I told you to keep her out.” Cam's angry voice washes over the buzz of white noise. “Sam? Sam, look at me.”

She can't look away. Her breath is sharp in her throat, blood thick on her tongue as her eyes trace the red line that carves down his spine. It's bisected by a second cut across his back, just below the shoulder blades. Blood seeps from the wounds, dripping onto the floor.

“Cam,” she whispers. He's holding her up, her legs turned to jello at the sight of what's been done to Baal. Cam says something, but she cannot hear for the thunder that deafens her. “Cam.”

“Colonel Carter,” Teal'c's voice cuts through the horror and she blinks, focuses on the Jaffa. He holds her gaze for a moment, then picks up a dagger from the table. Her eyes blur with gratitude as he cuts down through the leather cuffs, freeing one wrist and then the other.

Teal'c moves down the table and saws at each strap. Sam clings to Cameron, who soothes a hand over her head and murmurs comfort on every breath.

“T?” he asks louder. The Jaffa drops the dagger onto the floor and kicks it to one side, then bends over the grey-flecked head. He removes the gag and stares into Baal's face for a painfully long moment.

Then he says, “He lives,” and relief makes Sam gasp.

For several moments, all she knows is a confusion of movement. It seems fast, or is it slow? Nothing makes sense. Voices buzz at the edge of hearing. She moves towards him, vaguely aware of Cam and Daniel flanking her, then reaches out and rests a hand on Baal’s shoulder, her eyes on his face.

Deeply unconscious, he looks calm, almost peaceful. His skin is warm under her palm and she feels the slightest shift as he breaths, shallow and slow.

Pain flares as her knees hit the floor, but she doesn't care. She's not bothered by the tears that streak her cheeks either. Her chest is tight, constricting further as she strokes his hair, trying to impart love and comfort.

“Baal,” she whispers, praying he is not too far gone. “ _Baal_.”

Footsteps drag as Cam moves away, his hand on Teal'c arm. “Is he...” he asks. “Did they...?”

“I cannot tell Colonel Mitchell. I cannot sense it, but given the loss of blood...”

Sam swallows and looks up. “The symbiote will pull back to safeguard the host. I... don't know, Cam. His... the blood is full of naquadah and I just...”

“Whatever.” He grabs his radio. “I need that medical team in here stat.”

Knowing that help is coming is only a small relief: it could already be too late. She continues to run her hand over Baal’s head, watching his face for any flicker of life. _Please don’t leave me_.

“Baal,” she tries. “Baal, it's Sam. It's okay now, honey. Everything's going to be okay.” She wants to believe that, but she knows three have died in this warped experiment-cum-ritual, and there is so much blood. She leans forward and rests her forehead against his shoulder, aching inside.

A muscle twitches. Her eyes snap open and she lifts her head, staring at him. His eyelids flicker and hope surges. She takes a hand and holds it tightly, her other still cradling his head.

“Sam?” Rough with pain and so weak she only just hears it, his whispered word floods her with relief.

“Oh God,” she sobs and presses her lips to his forehead. “Baal?”

His eyes open on a sharp gasp. The pain in it wrenches at her and she snaps, “Where the hell is that med team?”

“Sam,” he says, a little stronger. A shudder wracks him and his hand grips hers. “I...” His eyes flare a pale gold light. “Can't... Sam.”

“Oh, yes you can.” She wipes her eyes and sniffs hard, fixes that hazy look with an iron stare. “You held on this long, just... Don't you dare do this to me.”

The corner of his mouth hitches into the smallest smile. “'kay.”

She smiles, her fingers combing his hair, and she leans forward. Kisses him gently. “I love you,” she tells him. If he is going to leave her, then she needs him to know that. “I will always love you.”

His gaze clears and becomes coherent. His lips part and she tilts her head to catch his fading voice. “And so you should,” he says on a sigh and then goes still, the light in his eyes dying.

“No!”

“Sam, you need to come away now.” Carolyn seems to have appeared from nowhere, the rest of the med team already sorting out their equipment. She's pulled rudely away and she cries out. “It's okay now,” the doctor continues. “We're going to take care of him, don't you worry.”

She blinks and looks at her. “Is he...?”

“Very weak, but he's alive. You need to be strong for him, now. You need to back off and let us do our job.” she glances round. “Daniel, can you take care of her? Get her sat down and wrapped up.”

“I need to stay,” Sam says as fear rises. Daniel puts an arm around her shoulders.

“We're not going anywhere.” His tone is calm, reassuring. “You're just going to sit down and take it easy. You're as white as a sheet.”

She's sat down and Cam and Teal'c close in. Closing ranks. The Jaffa stands so that his body blocks most of the horrific sight just yards away, but still in such a way she's still aware of what is happening. A blanket is draped around her shoulders and someone presses a silver flask into her hands.

Removing the lid, she smells the warm aroma of brandy and takes a small sip. It burns down her throat, making her eyes sting, but it brings a much needed clarity. She focuses. “Carolyn,” she says, and the doctor glances up. “The blood won't be enough. It's... he's needs naquadah to sustain the symbiote.”

“There's a vial of suspended naquadah in the med kit. I can give him that when he's a little more stable.” Carolyn pauses with a frown. “I really want to sedate him so he has chance to recover from the trauma, but I'm not sure how the symbiote will react.”

Sam shakes her head. “They're both very weak. I'm not sure...” She trails off as one of the nurses begins sewing up the cut down his spine. Breathes in slowly. “It's not as bad,” she murmurs. “He's not conscious now.”

Carolyn's lips press together and her frown deepens. Sam leans back on the chair, drained. Her eyes drift close.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Sam jerks awake. She can't remember falling asleep, but everything is hazy, so she must have.  She rubs distractedly at her right arm. The itch stabs a short sort of pain. She tugs her sleeve up to see a pinprick mark on the inside of her elbow and realises that Carolyn sedated her.

And then recalls everything else. Panic floods at the recall of the warehouse, only to die as she becomes aware of a muted fizzing in her blood.

That can only come from one source and she turns her head to see him sat by the cot, astride a reversed chair with one arm folded along the backrest. His chin is propped on his other fist and he watches her with bright eyes.

Sam is just glad she’s lying down, because the relief she feels at seeing him up and about would have floored her otherwise. As it is she has to blink rapidly to clear her vision. He looks ridiculously well in his light blue shirt and very familiar smirk. However there are faint shadows under his eyes and new lines of pain from his near-death experience.

Realising that he’s probably not been recovered at that long, she gives him a hard look. “Should you be up?”

He hitches a shoulder. “I appear to have developed an aversion to medical surroundings.”

Laughter bubbles up and she smothers it with her pillow. She hears him chuckle and it loosens the band around her heart. Her next breath comes easier. Still chuckling, she guesses at the real cause for his being here. “Carolyn threw you out, didn't she?”

“I was _bored_.”

“You bore frighteningly easily.” She sits up slowly, wondering if the room will stay still since she feels rather light-headed. “She must have been pleased enough with you, though. How are you doing?”

His gaze shifts, goes distant. Sam wonders whether the symbiote protected him or if he felt every slice of the knife. The very idea makes her shiver. He'll never tell her and she'll never ask. Hopefully it won't be something that comes between them.

Baal’s eyes clear and he gives her a half smile. “Better now that your pet IOA agent has informed me that all of the cult members are under lock and key,” he says.

She blinks at that. “Really? How long have I been out?”

“Oh, forever – I was beginning to think I was going to have to kiss you in order to wake you up.”

Snorting a soft laugh, she shakes her head. “And that would be just awful.”

“I'm glad you agree.” He unfolds himself, arching his back without a flicker of pain. The symbiote has clearly worked overtime, unless she has slept for much longer than she thinks. “Are you hungry?” he asks her then. “Because I am absolutely starving.”

Since her stomach rumbles as soon as he mentions food, there's little point in denying otherwise.

“Very,” she says with a grin. She stands up slowly, noting Baal watching her every move. “Any idea what's on the menu?”

“Not what I desire unless I particularly want to hear Doctor Lam lecture me about over-doing things.”

He pouts and she chuckles. “I'm sure you'll be... ah, _fighting_ fit in no time. You do have rather the advantage there.”

“True.” He gets to his feet and this time she catches the quick grimace that crosses his feet. “But my advantage is demanding lasagne and something disgustingly sweet.”

“Blue jello,” Sam sighs. He snorts.

“You have a problem, you do know that don't you?”

“No, I'm fine with it. Especially since it's the one damn thing you won't steal off my tray.”

He looks affronted. “Me? I do not steal. I just... borrow long-term.”

Sam gives up with a laugh. “You're impossible.”

“You love the challenge.”

There's no comeback to that, so she shakes her head with a rueful laugh. It quells as her gaze drops to his chest, mind working overtime. He arches an eyebrow and his fingers rise to the top button. Her heart trips as he undoes it and then works down. He shrugs the shirt off and turns.

The cuts are nothing more than two raised welts. She touches them gently, running her fingertips down his spine. A shiver runs through him and it’s like a dam breaks within her. She breaks down and Baal turns back to gather her into his arms. She throws hers around his neck, clinging to him as she weeps helplessly.

He holds her tightly and presses his lips to her temple. Then he murmurs her name and she turns her face into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent. “Sam,” he says and strokes her hair. “Tal'shree.”

Lifting her head, she gives him a quizzical look. He smiles at her and thumbs her cheek dry. She says, “I don't-”

“You do,” he interrupts, brushing hair off her face. “When I... My consciousness was sliding away, I heard your voice. And I wanted to live, so I could tell you...” He stops, shakes his head and then, sliding his hand into her hair, leans forward and kisses her full on the mouth.

Her eye close as her lips part to allow him access. The prickle of arousal skitters over her skin, raising gooseflesh, and she moans softly. It's not so much desire as aching need, a desperate want to affirm he is alive and she can't get close enough.

“Baal.” She chokes on his name and fresh tears scold her cheeks. It annoys her to be so... weak and emotional, but she could have lost him today and her usual defences are shattered.

“It's over,” he says. His voice shakes and she wonders if he's trying to reassure her or himself. “Sam, I'm sorry.”

She's not sure what he's apologising for - whether it's the stubborn refusal to come in that got him into trouble, or the fact he got into trouble in the first place, or just that he made her worry so damn much – but it doesn't matter. She's long stopped caring about that.

“Shut up,” she whispers and pulls him into another clinch. The way it's going, she'll end up catching hell from Carolyn, but she doesn't care about that either. She needs him, and she needs him now. She's fairly sure, given the way he's tearing at her clothes, that he feels the same way.

It's desperate and she's never very sure of how they actually end on the bed and not just sprawled on the floor. It's also hurried and not particularly gentle, but she just wants him inside her and he wants to be there and that's what happens.

 

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 

Some time later Sam lies butted against the wall with Baal's head on her shoulder. Her fingers trace the thin line across his back, noting how it's fading rapidly now. He holds her, fingers digging into her ribs hard enough to hurt. She just keeps her breathing shallow and says nothing. Anyway, it hurts her more that he's curled up against her like a frightened child.

She stares at the ceiling as she strokes his back, trying to offer what comfort she can, wondering if he'll manage to sleep. What dreams will come if he does: the physical wounds might heal quickly, but the mental ones will last him a lifetime. Last them both a lifetime. She shivers.

“Cold?” he murmurs.

“A little,” she says and he reaches down to tug the blankets over their bodies. His hand returns to her side and she places hers on his head. “Will you ever tell me about it?”

“Probably not. Carolyn said if I needed to talk, it should be to her.”

Sam frowns, then sighs. “I don't want this to get between us, Baal. But I understand if you can't.”

He lifts his head and gazes down. “I can. But I would rather not. It was bad enough that you saw what.... the results. But even at the worst of it, I knew you would find me. I knew that, Sam.”

Her smile feels sharp and she has to blink rapidly. “Nothing on Earth would have stopped me,” she tells him. “Nothing.”

He leans in and kisses her, whispers, “I know.”

She sighs. “What do we do now?”

Baal settles his head back on her shoulder. “Well, we could go and see if the canteen has lasagne, or at least something edible. Or...” He drags the word down and shifts his hand from her ribs to her breast. “Not.”

“Hm, well, I _am_ hungry-” she starts then yelps when he pinches her nipple. She bats his hand and giggles at him. “Okay, we'll go with 'not'. _After_ you tell me what you said before.”

“I said a lot of things before,” he notes, circling her nipple with a fingertip. “You'll have to narrow it down.”

“You know exactly what I mean, so stop being such a pain in the ass or I will go and find food.”

“What do you think I said?” His tone is softer, lower and he hitches up her body to kiss her again. A breath gasps from her as he dips his tongue into her mouth. When he pulls back and she looks into those wonderful brown eyes, she just _knows_.

A lump rises in her throat and she gives him a misty smile. “I love you, too.”


End file.
